


Like Our Bodies Never Touched

by glamorouspixels



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Do Us Part, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, S03e08, also lots of kissing and cuddling, feels...ALL OF THEM, smutty sadness, welcome to the least surprising birthday gift ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/pseuds/glamorouspixels
Summary: But she wasn't gone, not yet.A birthday gift for acrazyobsession! <3
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 53
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acrazyobsession](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrazyobsession/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3 Staying true to the bad birthday surprises because I'm predictable, you're getting a fic I told you I wanted to write back in January, based on a song I had just discovered at the time. Thankfully, I never told you what exactly my idea had been 😂 And then...I stole a line from a different song to use as the title? Makes sense, right? But I do think the idea really fits you, and at least there's a chance you don't remember that I talked about it ;) I'm sorry, and I love you, and I hope it's actually okay that I'm gifting you angst 😂
> 
> The smut is in chapter three, but I promise that it is very smutty (and over six thousand words long) and the rest is also worth the read for lots of Phrack moments. Let's blame AO3 and not me for not letting me adjust the rating later on.
> 
> This is inspired by _Setting the World on Fire_ by P!nk and Kenny Chesney, and the title is from _But We Lost It_ , also by P!nk.
> 
> And a massive thank you to Particularfavorite for beta reading the whole thing! <3
> 
> Chapter two should be up on Thursday or Friday, and chapter three at some point during the weekend.

It was terribly amusing, thought Jack, how in the end there was no nightcap, no glance of yearning gone wrong, aimed for fleeting and tame but succeeding only at bringing their desperation to unfathomable reaches, soaring too high for even them to overlook. Instead came the large-looming shadow of an airplane, and with it promise of one final night.

All their months dissolved in a flash to insignificance; so many months they’d started to pile and fuse into no more than the fundamental law of _together_ and become ultimately defined by the impending absence of it. Only the bare bones had survived, and it was only a matter of hours before they, too, would be ruthlessly ripped from their shaking hands.

When even the few short strides now separating them appeared endless, what would become of them with the stretch of an ocean between their aching hearts was, well, precariously up in the air. Still the scene remained awfully bland, another day for all but the two of them. Their congratulations had been sincere but wistful, and who could blame them? Every second passed took them closer to the end.

The cold that pooled on the frame of his car nibbled at his back as he watched her, perfectly in line among the last of her family. Each of them she saw off with a minute piece of her heart, releasing them one after one into the dark. 

Before long there would be no one left but him. 

He watched as she wrapped Dr. MacMillan in a tight embrace, rubbing her devotion into the other woman’s back as her eyes crinkled with endearment. A sad approximation of a smile, without a doubt loving but at an equal scale bittersweet.

She disengaged in part but kept her hands on her best friend’s shoulders, a gesture readily reproduced, but Mac's touch was unyielding where Phryne’s had been steady but soft. Jack wished almost to avert his gaze as she pressed a kiss to Phryne’s cheek, curved gently upward in radiant laughter; a gesture so rare and intimate he didn't want to intrude. 

His own mouth, there, would map a steady path from cheek to lips, extracting an altogether different sort of smile; he imagined the taste of her skin, fragile and flushed, her French perfume and through it the warmth that was simply Phryne. But even in his mind she felt insubstantial, an image praised but so guarded its uncovering turned it to dust – the opportunity was long lost.

Through glazed eyes he continued to watch the scene before him, the open display of what he knew they’d never have, and his own lips tingled with her ghost. He was certain he’d never know the feel of her, the little fragment of a gasp birthed from his lips against her skin. 

Salvation from himself came as the suggestive tilt of a head in his direction, then a sly smile and the shake of another, the ends of Phryne's ebony hair stirring in the midnight breeze. And Mac was going and soon gone, and there was just Phryne, standing ignited in a sliver of moonlight. Her dress flowed like drops of starlight to highlight her curves; they clung to the rise of her breasts, her slowly swaying hips as she came toward him. 

A divine temptation he knew he'd miss, a map compiled of stolen glances to commit to his memory the shape of her. A final look to top off the pile, he willed his gaze to land on hers and knew full well she'd seen it wander, seen him save perhaps another day before her image began to fade – he didn't bother to imitate shame. He might have, once, after humiliation had just given way to admiration. But shame carried no weight when she was certain to be gone.

Phryne came to a halt before him; he stood up straight, exchanging the biting cold for the softness of her warmth. Leaning into her without a trace of recognition he was doing so.

“Now, Jack – that was quite a night, don’t you think?” Her eyes, still holding most of their customary twinkle, had dimmed just slightly with a glaze of exhaustion, on which Jack blamed her muted steps, the way she hovered at the edge of his form. 

“It was. I’m glad Miss Williams and Constable Collins were able to come to an agreement.”

“It’s Mrs. Collins, Jack.” Lazy fingers stroked his tie, dancing without purpose but ever-lasting in their touch. Her eyes met his before dipping lower, watching her fingers roam. “And they did – not least thanks to you.”

“Oh, it was nothing. Anyone would've given Hugh that promotion; he clearly deserved it.”

She seemed unaware of how she lingered, so near he could feel her shaky exhales, and her jumping glances caught his attention. Her soft words came rushing out before either of them could halt their plunge, tying his nerves in a difficult knot. 

“That may be so – no, let me finish – but it wasn't anyone. It was _you_ , as Hugh’s friend. And that – your friendship, Jack – is worth more than anything.”

Sometime in her talk his hand had found its way between both of hers. The tips of her fingers seared his skin, filled his veins with fire, yet she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her confession a skid around the edge, Phryne was aimlessly spilling words, all wide of the mark and leaving her breathless. 

A beat of silence succeeded her speech, vacant save for his bruised heart pounding, the dizzying strokes of her at his wrist crowding his thinking. The world spun rapidly out of control, with steel in the air and sighing leaves sounding an overwhelming tune, and he was overflowing with thoughts and...

“Phryne-”

“How can I persuade you to come home with me? Maybe a nightcap?”

And there it was, leaving her wide awake trembling as she gripped his hand with utter desperation. How could she break his heart like so, and leave him no choice but to return the act? 

On the same page at last, all was lost, beyond repair; she was slipping away before his eyes. 

Jack swallowed the words of agreement clawing their way up his throat, picking instead from the bottomless pool of misery; the gentlest tone he could muster was adopted to deliver the blow.

“While I would no doubt take considerable pleasure in having you eye my drink with yourself clear-headed, as I’m certain you’d remain before your voyage” – the long look they shared held little of their usual taunt; it was a painful reminder of what they were losing, had already lost – “I regret to say I must refuse. Surely Mr. Butler has enough to put in order without my being in the way – and even you need your rest, Miss Fisher. You’ve a long flight ahead of you.”

He felt his throat constrict as he answered, the words no less painful for the open truth they contained. Sleep was as far from his mind as from hers, yet the mere thought of her in a crash made him tremble, of her tired mind unable to conquer the air. Blinking the images from before his inner eye, the quiet disappointment he saw on her face pierced his heart.

“Which is to say that I would come to you, Phryne, gladly – but I’m afraid there isn’t a way.” Her small nod of understanding, the dying glimmers of hope in her eyes threw his whole world off balance. The choice, had it been theirs to make, would have been glaringly clear; but no matter the outcome, he couldn’t chance to regret what they had. Even if losing her poisoned his heart. Seeing her cling to his words like a lifeline, it broke him to turn her down.

“Well, then, if this is it…” Pausing briefly, Phryne arranged her delicate features in a smile, one that didn’t quite extend the full way to her eyes. “Then I suppose it’s only right that I say thank you, Jack – for letting me in, being my colleague–my friend, as well.” Holding his gaze with her own soft and glistening, she took a break as if to compose herself, as if the words that followed might crush her if uttered unprepared.

“For...for making Melbourne home again.” His heart became a million pieces, set asunder by the way she held his now shaking hand. Jack felt his own eyes gathering tears.

“Phryne, if I'd known tonight was all we had left-”

“Don’t, Jack,” she whispered, but it came to him disfigured by the song of twilight, leaves and whirlwinds joined in a hair-raising tune; and as the pounding in his ears subsided, it was to give way to the tips of her fingers slipping from his. He was trembling with the desire to hold fast, refusing to let the darkness fall between them. Three points of touch reduced to two, then one.

Phryne stilled, about to turn and walk away. Her hand hovered in the air, a separation from his by mere millimeters; he could sense her warmth, the barest whisper of her touch; watching their dance tip so hurriedly into nothingness, Phryne herself looked almost horrified. A subtle stretch of his fingers, the tips reaching to unravel the molten swirls of night – it was all it took to make her falter, for her hand to tangle ever so tightly with his, and Jack responded by pulling her cautiously closer, allowing her to break the remaining distance after one minuscule tug.

He forgot to breathe as she looked straight at him, at once only inches away; she’d landed so near Jack felt her breath parting the chilly air to nestle warmly on his face. Whatever she’d looked to see in his face, Phryne must have found, and Jack thought his heart might burst from his chest as she leaned against his rigid posture, dropping the lightest kiss to his lips. 

He hadn’t thought it possible to grow even more tense. His heartbeat filled his body, flooding with icy fire the blood in his veins, burning hot and cold where their bodies turned one from the press of their lips. 

Left in the wake of the subsiding inferno, their kiss was so soft, the slide of her lips so gentle there were hot tears forming behind his closed eyes. While one hand remained entangled with hers, hopefully granting whatever comfort she needed, keeping her grounded with each slow stroke of his thumb, the other cupped the curve of her hip, delicate beneath her rougher dress, as though he could reach through it to feel the supple flesh.

The position was held long after they’d parted, leaving them far closer than his inappropriately pounding heart allowed. The air was a heavy silence, broken only by soundless moans as they each recovered their breath. Difficult as it was with their foreheads touching, her curves pressed so snugly to his form, Jack’s mind reached into the world around them. A creeping shift, midnight turned into the charcoal shade of early morning, suggesting the passing of their precious time; but nothing else appeared to have moved. 

Something inside of them had clicked into place. It should’ve had more weight to it, a fundamental change in the makings of the universe; instead, it just felt right. 

He moved to cradle her face, letting her lean into his hand as she pulled back. His thumb painting strokes along her cheekbone, Phryne’s eyes fluttered closed as she rubbed against his palm, spreading her flush on the sensitive skin. Her kiss-bruised lips had parted, and her eyes were dark and stormy as she looked at him.

Before he could grapple for words she all but lunged herself at him, wrapping him in a fierce embrace so earth-shattering he crumpled, knowing he’d simply melt away if she were to let go. Their heartbeats mingling, Jack dropped a kiss to the crown of her head and felt again for the tears threatening to shake him. A few silently escaped his eyes and fell unseen into her hair, making what should have been a stream of sorrow no more than a balmy drizzle.

“Phryne. Do you really want to leave?” As she shook her head, her lips on the base of his neck sending greedy thrills into tightly wound muscles, Jack drew a steadying breath to fight the sting of separation, dual blades of pain and smoldering pleasure etched into his heart. But she wasn’t gone, not yet. 

She did not yet fall apart when he guided her up by the back of her neck, fingernails scratching the short hairs there until she practically purred. Nor did she fade as their gazes touched, hers lit by starlight as much as by unshed tears. 

Once more he captured her lips, their kiss this time slow and thorough, and a groan erupted as her mouth fell open, warm and wet, to receive his tongue. The taste of her made him dizzy, as did her soft weight pressing him back against his car. He held fast to her warmth to ward off the chill of it, his hand summoning gooseflesh up her arms and shoulders and down again under her dress. 

Finally settling on the small of her back, barely able to resist the tempting curve of her bottom, she was so near he could feel the heat of her on his thigh, the gentle circling motion as she pressed down on him. He’d unlocked something inside her, and in turn she set him alight with whimpers and gorgeous moans. To kiss her, and have her cling to him with all she had, was like coming home only to know it would be ripped from him.

Through the feel of her tongue and her muffled moan as he bucked against her, he hardly heard the sound of footsteps hitting the stone at her back, rustling leaves and branches as they veered off the path, coming closer. 

His hand froze on her side, but it was the wide-eyed glee depicted on her face, her thrilled smile that at once pushed him into motion. There was no time to halt and listen, which he tried to communicate with an urgent gaze – but another set of footsteps sounded before she finally released her body’s hot clasp. 

He saw no retreat, only endlessly rolling night and trunks of trees too skinny to hide their forms and a swirling fog. However, upon feeling her hand drop a little too slowly to his, it came as no surprise that she knew just what to do. Shouting “Hurry!” with such abandon the intruder could’ve heard them a mile away, she tugged hard to pull him along, making him stumble his way to the back of the church.

While no doubt even more unpleasant than the frozen corners and ridges of his car, there was something to be said for being pushed into a wall by Phryne Fisher. She’d pressed him against the brick and herself to his front – against the tenting of his trousers, which adrenaline had brought from a pleasant simmer to frantically aroused against the softness of her belly. 

For now they’d outrun her imminent departure, ducked to outsmart the passage of time. They'd narrowly avoided it, and found overwhelming, inescapable love. Like his back slammed against the unyielding stone, it forced all breath from his lungs. Like Phryne’s softness colliding with his chest, hiding bones and jagged edges that shielded him from the last of the cold. 

His breath was shallow, torn from his throat in tattered gasps; any pretense, all fear he'd harbored was gone, and he was giddy with the absence of it, and all the better for accepting that crushing, liberating adoration. 

“Phryne?” Jack groaned as if eager to make known his new-found revelation. But his voice was hoarse; cloaked in the whirl of their combined wildness, it failed to reach the emotion running beneath. 

He felt rather than saw as she licked her lips, eliciting a stuttering breath as the heat of her tongue ghosted his pulse, her lips still wet from their earlier kiss. 

“Quiet, now.”

When her words didn't help to still his panting, she emerged from her place at his neck to bring one finger tenderly to his lips. Her entire body held him tightly, even more so as she felt his mouth, equally inflamed and glistening, move an instinctive slide against the tender skin. 

In a blink, her eyes had darkened and she pulled him down by his collar to kiss him again, more demanding but not as frantic, revealing her own love as an undercurrent in her insatiable passion. 

Their kiss was loving and lustful: Phryne’s palm slid down his backside, fingers curling to gently tease the back of his thigh and making him groan into her mouth. Greedily, she swallowed the sound, one of many brought forth by her hands and tongue. Jack’s own fingers were trailing up her side. 

His hand’s ascent was slowed as it caught on the complex fabric, every covered inch once more proving his certainty. When the air rang with another footstep, close enough to overshadow his loudly racing pulse, he had just found the lower contour of her breast, resting at its swell the very edges of his fingers. Whimpering, she arched into his touch but to no avail; Jack’s other hand on her hip kept her firmly in place.

Phryne moved to renew her claim over his mouth, nipping briefly at his bottom lip before he withdrew to listen for further movement. All was silent as they waited, save the shallow gusts of their still uneven breath, and Jack felt giddy from her touch and the rush of blood through his system. 

His every cell laced with arousal and adrenaline, he fell into the openness of her twinkling gaze on him. Watching deep desire obscure her eyes’ usual blue like the shadows that blurred their heated embrace, it struck him as no unfamiliar sight, and he tried not to laugh at the freeing revelation.

The pads of his fingers pressed down below her breast, tracing an absentminded, winding spiral between the press of their bodies. Another beat passed, still nothing. The prior sound had been one of retreat. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” said Jack, but made no move to extract himself. The only motion his swirling fingers, Jack watched her face, her flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelids as she allowed her panting breaths to shudder and deepen. 

“And where do we go from here?” Phryne asked. He was all but bursting with pride by the time she found her speech, each word delivered on a weak exhale that instilled in him the same giddy weightlessness. 

“Wherever you want, Miss Fisher,” Jack said, holding her intense eyes; he’d never heard his own voice so low, yet the underlying playfulness proved the greater shock. He didn’t think himself reckless and adventurous in the best of situations, was usually far from it where she was concerned. There might have been a time for reluctance, once. But having her shivering, flushed with arousal in his arms, perhaps even fearing the emotion shining from deep within her soul – Jack knew just what she needed, who she needed him to be. 

“Although – how does my house sound to you? I fear it’s not _quite_ up to standard, but a far step up from–from this.” He tilted his head to indicate their current situation but had winced inwardly at his quirking lip and the self-deprecation dropping as easily from his mouth as his kisses had. Still, the light in her eyes spoke only of hesitant hope, as if his proposal was too good to be sincere. 

“And there’s no Mr. Butler,” whispered Phryne as the idea took root. She looked heartbreakingly hopeful, exposed. Her hand the barest tremor on his hip, he thought the soft squeeze was etched for good into his skin, tormenting him when she could not. 

“No Mr. Butler,” he agreed. An unbearable silence followed, each lost in the other’s storm-dark eyes. But as it stretched on and she got no steadier, he couldn’t help the doubt seizing his gut with ice-cold claws. 

“I want to touch you, Phryne, to _be_ with you before-”

A voice frenzied was screaming in his head, telling him he’d gone too far in extending his invitation. It was one thing to succumb in her familiar parlor, surrounded by the ghosts of many nights turned sleepless in the wake of their back-and-forth. But it was something else entirely to step, thoughtlessly, into the uncharted and new, hoping against hope it would hold their weight and let them wander. 

“I would love that, Jack,” she blurted and released a shaky breath, leaving them both stunned speechless and sliding into timid smiles. Suddenly conscious of the brick wall hard and clammy and the cold closing in, he gently moved her to release her grip, and both his hands came down her arms and laced with hers, leaving him warm and anchored. 

Before taking his arm to lead the way from behind the church and out into the unguarded night, Phryne stretched upward to steal another kiss, barely moving, very soft but abundant in meaning.

“I’ll see you there?” Her breath, as the words spilled out, was soft against his neck. Jack was sad to feel her fingers slip from his skin, but her warmth there remained as she fixed him with a sheepish smile in response to his little nod.

As Phryne backed away toward the Hispano, she kept on pausing to throw him grins over her shoulder, showing blazing red lips against moon-pale skin. Some remnants of wax he tasted on his own lips – the mere thought of what had brought it there made his body tense again in anticipation, already feeling every second they didn’t touch. The world had yet to stop spinning from the vividness of her; he knew the sounds she made pressing herself to his thigh, how she licked at his tongue to offer soft moans and sweeter kisses, the gentle pads of her fingers nudging where backside met thigh.

Smiling, and growing warmer still, Jack watched through his own car's window as she drove off at a nearly sensible speed; although it showed some of her expectation, and was sure to roar to breakneck the second she left his view.

He didn’t pause to wonder how she knew the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please tell me not to apologize for this chapter. It needs to be a thing to transition into the smut in the next one, but it's so short and I feel super guilty posting it 😂 Well... at least you can look forward to six thousand words of smut this weekend...?

His car’s door falling closed behind him, Jack found Phryne already lounging by the wall of darkness that was his house, a near-perfect mirror of his earlier posture but painted in strokes of ease and indulgence. Lounging between light and shadow, she’d positioned herself so her golden gown trapped the starlight that rained on her from above. Her arms were loosely crossed to amplify the forward-nudging curve of her breasts. 

Like the moonlight before him he soon crowded her gentle contours, his legs carrying him across the street and ever closer as she drew him in. There was something to her breezy stance, the tender smile on her face barely containing the delight bubbling beneath the surface of golden dust. With a little jump of his heart, Jack realized that its signs, to him, were clear as daylight. There was no concealing the sheer joy with which she was practically vibrating, as though weeks had passed since she had last seen him. But on the outside, she was a statue of graceful calm.

He’d learned to read the tell-tale shift in her eyes as if all was brighter around him and she couldn’t get enough – as though her time to look upon him had always been finite. He didn't expect her to wait for him, yet the thought of the end was a sharp pinch to his heart.

“Hello, Jack!” As always, her happily chimed welcome once he’d stepped within earshot put to an end the downward spiral of his thoughts, and he focused instead on following the trail of her glamour. He looked from the shapely leg pushed forth by her casually crossed ankles to the hard peaks of her nipples, the hint of which was almost startling where they stood tightly from Phryne’s small breasts, almost greedily, drawing his gaze. 

What shocked him more was her sucked-in breath as she saw where he was peering, and the thereby resulting grin, which glowed brighter than any golden star had the power to shine. 

“Miss Fisher,” Jack said by way of greeting, with his own smile soft and his eyes still unearthing the shape of her, committing every arch and dip to memory. “I’m surprised you didn’t let yourself in. Shall we?”

She smiled into his lips –  _ when had he moved close enough to feel her, and how had his voice gone so choked? _ – and brought up her hands to rest on his chest. “And miss the opportunity to do this? Never, Jack. Just...one moment.” 

Cold fear spiked through him as she touched her lips more fully to his, when all he could feel were their open surroundings. There were hidden eyes in their unseen depths, no matter the ink spilled all around them. But it was so at odds with the tenderness of her mouth, of her hands, roaming from collarbone to chest to at last hold his waist. And buried in the subsiding panic was something undeniably thrilling, which made him welcome her mouth again. Out there in the open, under the blanket of stars. The entire world spun with only her touch there to ground him, and as if reading his thoughts he felt her tighten her hold. 

For a borrowed eternity, he gave freely all the kisses they’d lost, couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began, and knew only to build the momentum to carry them – for who knew how long until she’d next find his doorstep?

He emerged again to Phryne’s sparkling grin, one that would haunt his dreams when she was once again a distant shadow. “Now, if you’ve finished-” Jack shot her a pointed look that carried no real tightness. Easily, perhaps frighteningly so, he fell back into his role; it shouldn’t fit him now that everything had changed.

“Almost,” was all she said before finding him in a final thorough kiss, her parted lips resting on Jack’s, then exploring. She licked the inside of his lips and cheeks, slowly sucked the moans from his tongue, dutifully arching when his fingers pooled at the small of her back and producing further groans from him when she stretched to let them find the top rise of her arse. 

When at last his eyes flew open, Jack had to blink a sheen of tears from his line of sight. He found they’d spun so he was all but facing the door, providing a clear view when she stepped away. Still he struggled to unlock it, so heady with excruciating want that he found his fingers shaking. Her arm wrapped tight around his waist was doing him no favors, and neither was her sweet breath as she pressed her warmth against his side.

Jack thought of all the ways she’d left him spinning, but whatever they were, had already been – her kisses were a mere extension. Steps trudged to completion, forging the path they’d always walked. Her kisses had done as her words before them; burned an ever-warm blush to his cheeks from desire and challenge, making him need the push and pull of their minds. She’d made him smirk and shake his head and bark in laughter, like she caused him now to buck his hips and cry.

Every touch a revelation, and an infinite variety, indeed; the lock snicked as it came unlatched at last.

***

And so it was that he finally took her home. A heavy look stopped time as he opened the door and she took a moment too long to remove herself; Jack saw as much as sensed her smile of false innocence, pressed warmly to the side of his face if he turned his head just so.

As he motioned for her to step through, a more open smile met him. The nightfall inside felt incomplete, patchy; leaving him acutely aware of his sparse furnishings looming like shadows, creeping up along the walls. But flicking the light switch was no better. His rooms had never felt so empty, as devoid of life as they were now with her gentle warmth as a counterpart. 

They were quiet; Phryne to give him room – or so he gathered from the careful glances with which she caressed him from the corner of her eye, always a step or two away so as not to crowd his already stirring mind – and Jack because there was nothing to say, only their familiar routine to complete. He realized with a start that they were dancing around each other, for God’s sake.  The air alternating between flat and electric, he found worry in the silence as he poured them their whiskey and couldn’t see her eyes. 

_ It’s not as good as yours _ , she must have read in his expression while accepting the glass; not the precisely formed disapproval of her drinking that he’d known would fall weak. Yet the way she blinked her eyes in challenge, one eyebrow raised to dust off any hidden speck of guilt, calmed him somewhat.  Her response could have been no clearer – for once, it was not the drinks that would turn their evening memorable. Phryne inclined her head in thanks and watched him settle, herself on the very edge of his couch and the hand not holding the glass tucked innocently in her lap. Her smile disclosed she was well aware he thought she shouldn’t be indulging, but it would serve her just as much as it did him – the slow burn when they kissed, flaring up to turn to ashes the cruel loudness of their thoughts. The roaring void of her leaving.

This was time they couldn't afford but needed to waste.

Jack once more lowered his glass and tried not to flinch when it clinked against the table, blaring to the point of pain in the loaded midnight air. But ringing loudest of all was the weight of her eyes at his back.

His hands didn’t stop shaking until the fireplace was crackling to life beneath them; a feeble attempt at comfort. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be miserable, no matter how he yearned for the waves of self-pity to close above him, swallowing him. Not yet. As if to prevent reality from becoming their fate, he’d tried to bring more space between them. He almost wished that none of this was necessary – but its absence would work no more wonders for keeping them together than at long last giving in.

Patting the spot beside him, Jack finally said, “Come here.” As she sought his gaze from across the length of the sofa, he wanted to recoil from himself at the caution he saw in her, that he himself had conjured up to cloud her eyes. Nonetheless, Phryne complied with his request, scooting to rest against his side with her glass still in hand. Warmth blossomed wherever they touched, but the lines of their bodies had yet to blur as they sat in silence.

Feeling Jack’s arm come around her, she blew a hard breath into her tumbler and watched it stir the remaining drops of whiskey, which she then swallowed in a frantic gulp. Although his throat was crushed under the weight of what couldn’t be said, he did what he could to let his touch speak for him. He waited for her to set aside her now empty glass, then released his grip as her fingers brushed his to take away his own.

Without their drinks to occupy them, there was nothing to do but caress one another. Through the fabric he drew aimless patterns into the skin of her back, marveling at the softness and her lithe form underneath. He loved to feel her growing warmer from his hand, and how she arched against it to strengthen their connection. Phryne moved until she was practically in his lap, her propped-up legs tucked against Jack’s and her head tilting to bury in his neck, where he felt her inhale deeply, greedily; the contented hum she released touched every nerve in his body, making him ache to nestle her closer.

Her face came up next to his and she pressed her lips to his cheek, simply resting on his heated skin – until Jack thought he felt an easy tear sliding smoothly to pool where their faces touched. Wordlessly, he allowed his embrace to tighten and maneuvered her back down to his chest, thinking that looking at her would be too great a risk for the two of them. That little distance helped him calm her, but lightness had left with the last of their drinks and built-up sobs continued to hound them.

It shouldn’t have surprised him when she planted herself with her head in his lap, facing away, but his hands fluttered uselessly in the air before one came down and cupped her bare shoulder, his thumb smoothing over the freckled skin; for each tiny stroke revealed more of her imperfections, rubbing the respectable powder away.

When she turned onto her back to face him, he moved to trace the front of her shoulders, her sensitive throat, and the lines of her face, so delicate where there was a roughness to his fingers. She didn’t appear to mind, quite the opposite, in fact; deep breaths swelled to tiny sighs until Jack watched in awe as he continued his attentions, feeling the power of his wayward touch. She even turned to nip at his finger when he brushed too close to the edge of her mouth.

“Oh, Jack, this is lovely,” she laughed, beautifully breathless, and briefly opened her eyes for a loving look that made his heart skip a beat. Jack had just begun to work the headpiece from her hair, caressing her scalp and each raven strand he freed from the golden confines. Already it seemed to him a tremendous step, but with a pounding heart he resolved to take a chance – for once truly having nothing to lose.

“But not all you came here for, I imagine?” 

He wondered if the calm that had settled over him like a warm blanket was a ruthless deception, lulling her near only to take her before they could have this one final night. The passing of time he’d felt almost painfully; it was what had ultimately propelled him on, had made him show his way of being brave. But every little second was a stab as she sat abruptly and turned to him.

He would happily spend an eternity this way, Jack’s mind was frantic to supply, thinking of ways to ease the coming pain. And then she met him with soft eyes and a softer voice, the two caught in a tangled tune of love and desire.

“Show me your bedroom, then?”

Setting loose a dark chuckle, Jack wondered how he’d survive the night. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack held her hand the whole short way to his bedroom and was loath to release it, once a third kind of darkness awaited them there. And so he didn’t, feeling as though he might shatter without her touch. Carefully, so gently it dyed her cheeks pink even in the washed-silver night, he turned Phryne so she was facing him and brought her hand to his lips as her own were parted in a silent gasp. She watched in fear and dark-eyed pleasure, saw him draw her fingers to his mouth. Each he took between his lips, painted their pads on the soft inside and touched his teeth to the dampened skin.

Next was her pulse point, warm and frail, and the life roaring at full force underneath. With the smell of her perfume its slight bitterness unfurled on his tongue, and Jack had to close his eyes against the sensation as it twisted and coursed between her pounding pulse and the delicate bones that grazed his lips. He nipped at the inside of Phryne’s elbow and upper arm, tasting the velvet softness that found him and her whimpers, growing more urgent by the second.

Jack moved to stand behind her when he could no longer contain himself, threatening to boil over with the ache of too much – too much love he felt for her, too many breathtaking moans and cries erupting from within her. As Phryne arched her beautiful neck for him he let out a groan of his own, burying his face in the ends of her hair as he sucked and licked her. Under her jaw, where her neck met her shoulder, and at the sensitive flesh he found behind her ear; ever so gently so as not to leave a mark.

He could tell she was shaking with the effort to hold still: Her muscles rippled where his hand was curled around her arm and she pressed hard against his erection, his cock fitting snugly against the curve of her ass. 

Every touch of his lips to her skin was like catching up on a lifetime of bliss; simply having her near was overwhelming. Months of elaborate fantasy paled to simply holding her, pressing his hands and mouth to the texture of her skin and feeling her push back against him. But as he placed a kiss between her shoulder blades, just above the tiny buttons of her dress, and she strained against him to draw out the sensation, there was also pain; they were operating on stolen time. 

But how could he love her, commit every inch to memory when all he saw was the moment she’d go from person to ghost, from present to past? She deserved better than that; they both did.

“Jack…” Not quite a plea, but as close as he thought she’d get. It wedged itself into the hollowed space she was starting to carve into his heart.

Phryne began to squirm in impatience and tilted toward his motionless head. He must have stilled, his lips still fastened to a point halfway up her throat; the crimson trapped in her cheeks was shocking, the friction causing further heat to build against his evening stubble.

Bracing himself, Jack inhaled deeply as if to take a plunge into icy water – and let her dress drop open, watching in fascination as it pooled around her waist. The hands dragging it off her shoulders and down her arms didn't feel like his own and just as he hadn’t thought it possible to grow any harder, he stared in wide-eyed surprise at her moon-lit skin. No brassiere was in sight to keep her hidden.

He resolved to play a slow game of suckling from the nape of her neck down to the base of her spine, savoring her taste and the smell that hit him, already all around her, so heady a scent he couldn’t help but draw her closer and rock against her, the soft flesh where her bottom curved into her thigh.

She couldn’t help herself either, seemed only more aroused rather than offended at feeling the effect she obviously had on him. She seized his hands, wrapped solidly around her waist for purchase, and pulled them up to cover her breasts, which Phryne pressed tightly against his flexing palms. Her nipples hard in the cup of his fingers, they shared a soft gasp at the sensation, the perfect fit of her in his hands.

For a moment Jack tensed up, the joy that seized all of him close to overpowering, such was the power of the unsuppressed love he felt for her, and of the intimacy she gave him in return.

“Phryne,” he whispered, his mouth touching the delicate shell of her ear, “ _ Phryne _ .” He was uncertain if her name on his lips, a choked low groan of such tenderness he almost crumpled around the shape of the word, or the motion of his hands drew the whimper that escaped her. The tips of his fingers finding their purpose, Jack began to slowly outline the shape of her breasts. He didn’t yet dare to look, simply traced the warm smooth skin and wondered at the way she nudged her chest forward to get more of his hands, more of  _ him _ . 

He made sure to touch all of her, at first brushing the very edges of his fingers down the slopes to the small tips of Phryne’s nipples, ghosting there like a blow of his breath. The feather-light caress made her shudder, then sob; his fingernail must have grazed her hardened nipple, but there was only air when she arched up.

“More, Jack,” she breathed, more shattered whisper than rational speech. 

As he went back to massaging her flesh, harder now, Jack’s eyes were closed, his lips pressed into her hair to keep himself from moaning. Everywhere they touched was amplified by the sense of sight taken; they were joined from his mouth on the side of her head to his hotly pressing hips. Her hand dug into the nape of his neck, stinging slightly as her nails etched into his skin in an attempt to trap him. The other clung to his circling wrist.

The glide of his fingers on her breast went from outer curve to underside and spun ever closer, faster – rising ever up from unhurried, matching the climb of her whimpers until he found himself circling her nipple, then bumping its hard peak with his thumb. And his other hand scratched lightly downward from breast to belly, then cupped her mound through the fabric of her gown.

Never before had they been this close.

He felt the heat radiating off her, her shivers as she tried to push herself simultaneously forward and back, and ultimately sank against him as her moans morphed to form his name. And she did beg, then.

“Jack, please, I-” Her voice so small and desperate, he had to press his lips into her shoulder to catch his panting breath.

“I’ve got you, Phryne,” he whispered, stilling his touch and keeping her tight.  _ Phryne  _ – it was incomprehensible now how they almost didn’t do this.

He felt her nod her head before she turned. Never once did she slip from his warm embrace, but he made sure to let it slacken, just in case she needed to break free. Clear as day was the rush of emotion in her eyes. Jack wanted to know what she saw when she looked at him, what made her features soften into gentleness and determination as he’d never before known. Her gaze had drifted to his face, questing, searching, asking for permission – from  _ him _ , of all people, as though he weren’t at the point of breaking from simply having her nestled in his arms.

There was no time to dwell on what it might mean for them; swiftly shedding his jacket, nimble fingers set to work on the buttons of his waistcoat, then, soon after, his shirt. His attention tore between the workings of her fingers and his gaze fixed to her perfect breasts, safer somehow than her gaze of pure, naked wanting. When both layers hung open she traced his chest, weaving his skin with threads of warmth even atop his offending undershirt, which was on the floor in what seemed like a second after his waistcoat had been discarded and his shirt pulled from his trousers and off.

Her slender fingers on his bare skin were bright points of fire exploding inside him. From the mesmerized look on her face one would never have guessed the wicked things she was doing to him. Phryne’s hands ran all over his chest, lightly scratching at sensitive skin and tracing muscle, or she pressed her lips to his throat and dipped her fingers into his trousers to make out the contours of his narrow hips, and hummed in appreciation when he sucked in a breath with her fingers inches away from his throbbing cock.

She scraped and lightly flicked at his nipples, soothed the ache left behind with her blazing tongue. Jack’s resolve threatened to melt on her tongue until he no longer registered the desperate sounds he was undoubtedly making, drawn into a dark realm of heat and craving and glued to reality only by her solid touch. It was that fear of getting lost in her that pulled him back by his last thread of awareness.

“Not yet, Phryne,” he said, sounding pained; and against the drawn line of her body he took another moment to compose himself.

Then Jack moved them so she could perch on the edge of the bed – the skin of Phryne’s waist was shockingly soft and pliant to his touch as he guided her there – and sank to his knees where she sat, looking up at her through hooded eyes as he would to a goddess. With such rightful precision he unfastened the buckles of her shoes. His fingers there felt too large, sluggish; but apparently proficient enough that she keened for his lightly stroking her ankle as the shoe came off. An almost juvenile pride surged through him at seeing the flutter of her eyelids dropping shut.

When one shoe was off and then the other, Jack moved on from the fragile skin, up her calf while her foot rested softly on his thigh, pinning him in place as securely as if she'd used her entire weight to trap him. The silk of her stockings drank from the softness of her skin, a sorry imitation, lacking her true warmth. Still he continued onward, upward, slowly. Categorizing all of her, learning as much as he could before-

His fingers shook –  _ no _ . They slithered underneath her dress, past her knee, needing distraction. His eyes flicked to Phryne’s for permission and a hand found his shoulder, both to encourage him and ground herself. Between the thoughts that plagued him, he hadn’t thought her stillness meant she continued to harbor fears of her own – and why would she? He was only Jack, lost to her from that moment long ago when she’d first knelt before him, makeup and damp hair plastered to her face. And this felt right, down to the blood in the network of his veins – which was just what made her afraid.

Her thighs were soft and creamy, their pliant flesh yielding to his warmth. Jack couldn’t believe his luck at the pads of his fingers touching her bare skin, flowing easily past the edge of her garters, sliding them and her stockings expertly off. He held her hesitantly smiling gaze as he did.

Rising from the bed, Phryne hooked her thumbs in her stardrop gown where it hung low on her hips, clinging there like on a statue of marble. Jack’s eyes were fixed upon her; she was all the more astonishing for the slight tremble of her fingers, and his bated breath awaited every inch of her revealed. Her pale skin glowed blue in the beams of moonlight, leaving him nothing to do but watch. The swish as the star-draped fabric hit the floor was oddly bewitching – it was liquid shimmer, its drops falling as if one by one, each golden pearl singing its admiration for the carve of her curves. 

Jack kept his position before her, smoothing over her hips still clad in tap pants of equal glitter, fumbling slightly. He couldn’t think. His desire was a sweeping storm, momentarily blinding him; he pressed his head to her hip, smelling her all over. One of his hands came around her leg to ground him, and with her fingers combing through his hair she strengthened their embrace, reminded him that she was real, really there. The silk of her knickers was so soft against his cheek, but he needed her flesh – but breaking their bond was unbearable.

Delighting in the little sound she made that blurred the lines of breathless gasp and laughter, he caressed her other leg from behind her knee up the inside of her thigh into the edge of her knickers. He felt the crease where her thigh met her torso, curled his fingers inside the fragile flesh; and slid along it until the tips of his fingers brushed rough curls made silky with moisture.

“ _ Jack _ -” Immediately she arched her hips, swaying further toward him. Jack stilled. Thighs trembling, Phryne was shaking in his arms and he shifted his other hand to cup the small of her back, channeling desperate reassurance into the touch.

“Phryne? Are you alright?” He looked up to find her plainly wanting; a perfect picture of rose-flushed skin, mussed hair, and swollen lips, tinged from her lipstick as from her own burning desire.

“No,  _ yes _ , I just–” She sat again on the bed, sinking slightly into the sheets; Jack came in close between her open legs. One arm wrapped instinctively around her lower back, feeling her warm and trembling.

“I can't believe we're  _ here _ , Jack.”

_ I know, Phryne _ , he wanted to say, but he couldn’t lose heart, not now; he thought the words might burst him, split him straight down into two. He offered her comfort not the way he wanted to, but how he knew she needed it, thinking the words she didn’t want to hear –  _ I love you, Phryne Fisher; it’s alright, I’m here  _ – but she was right without knowing it, and words didn’t do justice to the earth-shattering love he felt for her body and soul. 

Still, he let his lips tinge the words into her breast; it was almost the same as speaking directly to her heart. Jack hoped she would sense them in his touch as he intended, was convinced that she did when her arms came around him.

As he knelt on the floor before her, Phryne’s head was on top of his; Jack buried his face in the warmth of her breasts and her beating heart, inhaling deeply her sweet skin and the salt of her sweat as he held her, and her own embrace in return was just as tight.

It didn’t take long until he sensed her growing restless, his name on her lips taking on an entirely different tone. Now it was tender, breathy. Grinding slightly into the bed, Phryne shifted to rock against his hand, which continued to rest by her aching center. He loved the feel of the slick smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingers, pressed lightly into her thigh; the way she was nudging his knuckles, and whimpered when his hand pulled out.

Jack guided her to face him and breathed the next words into her lips. “Just lie back and enjoy. Can you do that for me?” He could feel there was more than she let on; she really was nervous. But when she released a small huff and followed with a smug smile that was like sugar on his swollen lips, Jack knew he’d stood the test. He felt just a little lighter, his own smile full of the secrets he was waiting to share.

Lowering Phryne gently against his outstretched arm, his own safe embrace gave way to that of the sheets with a trail of fragile kisses, scattering love from her neck to the softness of her belly; he toed off his socks and shoes and then joined her on the bed.

Starting once more at her mouth he tasted her lines and contours, worshipping her throat with kisses and sipping at the little dip forged by her collarbones. Bringing his lips to her pulse there, it was almost too vivid; the thumping of her heart bled fire into his soul. He kept his face tantalizingly close, burrowed there, haunted by the eerie echoes of her love.

His hands preceded the course of his mouth down to her breasts. Jack reached a hand between their writhing bodies, his fingers splayed across the supple flesh, which had warmed from the friction his own chest against her created. He kneaded Phryne’s breast while his thumb sought out its inner curve, drawing around the very beginning of its swell as lightly as a feather. A delicate contradiction to his more focused ministrations, she shuddered and pressed upward into his hand and her nipple in between his fingers.

Jack was enchanted by the picture they made, that of his broad hand encasing her breast, dark against her blushing skin. She’d been holding him to her, with one hand clasping him to the skin of her neck while the other held his backside close to intensify the friction between their slowly stroking hips. But now Phryne released him, then, and his next breath felt strangely lacking without the sweet inhale of the life-warmed skin.

Looking up searchingly, she looked almost a little shy as she seized his head again to press him down against her arching breasts. Jack felt as if he couldn’t breathe, smothered by the adoration rising in his chest as he explored her skin all over again, only this time through the aspect of taste. And sweetness and sweat he tasted as he sucked her flesh and her demanding fingers in his hair tightened, but he refused to rush and used soft bites and kisses to discover her, getting slowly closer to where she wanted him.

Phryne lasted about two sweeps of his tongue across her puckered nipple, his lips softly closing so his tongue could flick the peak, before arching to rock her hips harder against his and blindly, clouded in pleasure, reaching a skillful hand downward, her fingers scorching through his restricting trousers. In his attempt to swallow his gasp, his teeth brushed her nipple and she drew a hissing breath. Jack stayed and sucked her nipple until her hard strokes made him see stars, but was given no choice but to roam lower if he wanted this to last, replacing his mouth once more with his hand.

Impatient moans made ambient his descent to the band of her knickers and Phryne’s legs became restless, clenching and shifting until he was low enough to cup and steady her trembling thighs. Jack moaned at the sight of her clutching desperately her own breast, her head a graceful arch off the pillows to watch and wordlessly urge him onward.

She whimpered when Jack traced her through the silk, first with shaking fingers but lips and tongue soon followed. He slipped his hands into the legs of her knickers, cupping her hips and arse to reach around and dip his fingers in her wetness. When Phryne jerked in pleasure at that first direct touch, she ground her cunt against his open mouth.

“God, Phryne,” he growled against her, inhaling deeply her spreading scent; he was every bit as aroused as she was by the pleasure he was giving her, and her openness to reward him with endless moans. Pressing his face against her did nothing to calm him, only heightened the whimpers rippling her body as she writhed and pushed at his head to make him move.

Stroking flat hands down to her knees and out of her knickers, they came back up on top of the fabric to finally release her of the final barrier. Jack was fast to reclaim his position between her thighs as Phryne pressed helplessly into the air, hissing as its coolness came in touch with her heated flesh. 

Her legs spread wide before him, he kissed a hot trail to the inside of her thigh. Feeling braver still, he did mark her there – an array of small bites that laps of his tongue secured to her flesh so a small bruise stood out from the creamy skin. It would likely fade in a few days’ time, would soon resist her fingers’ press in bringing forth delicious pain, but he wanted to leave her something real. A physical reminder of his love to uphold the bond he feared might soon turn breakable as she traveled the world, the echo of a kiss nestled on her thigh; and so he sealed it with a final tender kiss to the dampened skin.

Jack licked the wetness from her inner thighs and at last went down on her while his hand stroked her hip bone, safe inside soft skin. The thumb of his other hand held open the delicate folds of her sex. He ran his tongue along the heat of her, tasting her juices as much as the noises she made while she squirmed and quivered against him, sending sparks that chewed through him to his heavy cock.

He pressed down hard into the mattress, drunk on the moisture meeting his mouth as he circled her entrance, dipping only just inside. Lapping up and savoring her essence, Jack couldn’t get enough of the feel of her under his tongue, her taste, her scent; her hand in his hair dragged him almost violently closer and her thighs squeezed him and took his breath away.

But one thought reached through the fog; determined to end the wicked tease, Phryne pulled at his hair to tug him upward, a delicious half-scream tearing from her mouth when the hard point of her clit nestled on the seam of his lips. He succumbed into a small smile against her, then sucked the swollen nub into his mouth and felt arousal grasp her body with renewed strength while he flicked and nudged her. He applied his tongue in focused strokes, which expanded in their pressure as her pleasure grew. 

Picking a fight for every breath, she came close to weeping from the force of her built-up release. To soothe her, more than he ever could by kissing away her wayward tears, he pushed two fingers into her channel and allowed her to openly sob, convulsing around him with the harsh shock that came with being filled. Jack tried in vain to withstand her trembling, pointed and pressed his tongue against her frantic thrusts, her entire body arching in welcome of the wave that would tear her to shreds.

A well-aimed plunge, then a curl and nudge of his fingers inside her, and Phryne gave herself over, completely, to Jack. She was chillingly beautiful as he had always imagined her to be, a siren to whom he’d gladly succumb and then thank her for it. As her muscles pulled at his fingers, he agonized with her through every untamed shock, watching her face as his movements began to slow. Her mouth had opened in a torturous cry; stillness stiffened her limbs before the blast that had seized her released its claim.

Vowing to remain until summoned by her lure, as if the simple weight might keep her from dismissing him, Jack wallowed in stillness with his cheek pressed into Phryne’s thigh. His kisses murmured promises that he didn't know he could keep, that got lost in the slickness of her skin as she spasmed around him, chasing the shocks of her pleasure to the very end. He lapped up her taste and with it the heavenly lie of a shared infinity before reality’s death-grip caught him.

“Jack?” Her soft voice reached him as though underwater, but the weak hand flexing in the waves of his hair shook him gently from his thoughts, which were a canvas so blank in its uncertainty he thought he might drown in the heavy depths. Sliding up to lie beside her, he wrapped her boneless body in his arms and tried to calm himself as his head kept spinning. Yet the lock of their bodies felt inconsequential, every second they touched taking them further apart. Was it more difficult this way – knowing it was against her will that she left him?

Phryne stroked a gentle hand along his cheek. It was with a clenching heart that he registered the shadow of hurt that clung to her features like a sticky fog, clouding them. “I’m still here, you know,” she said quietly. “Let us make the most of it.” She reached between their bodies the hand that wasn’t tucked under her head, brushed gently down the smattering of hair on his chest, and dipped a finger into the waistband of his trousers.

Her words and inquisitive hand fought an equal battle for his attention; already she knew just what to do to him. The train of his thought frayed under her talented fingers, soft and cool in contrast to his burning length. Jack strained painfully against his trousers, arousal coiling dangerously as he let her words pass through his scrambling mind.

“But you won’t be here, Phryne – tomorrow, the day after. It’ll be  _ weeks _ before I see you again.” Breathless as he was by virtue of her questing hand, sorrow turned Jack’s voice a choked rumble.

It couldn’t be that she was close to crying, Jack thought, her glistening eyes must have been a trick of the moonlight. She stilled her hand, now inside his smalls with his buttons popped open. Her knuckles rested warmly against him and seared into his skin; his strangled breath proved a feeble attempt at filling the empty space in their hearts. And how could she smile, in a moment so wistful as this? Jack desired in equal parts to pull her closer and shield what part of his heart remained intact.

“What happened to the Jack who was so willing to give way and part with me?” Of course, that moment she chose to resume her explorations. Digging his hand into the pillow of her hip, he held fast but hissed and twisted under the single pad of her finger softly tracing his cock.

“If that Jack had ever existed – which he didn’t, Phryne, you know he didn’t,” he began, the words coming in bursts between heavy breaths, arching his hips into her hand in emphasis; he was completely helpless in her touch. “He would’ve breathed his last out there, back there behind the church.” He tilted his head at nothing, behind her out the window, where the stars threatened to dwindle as the night neared its end.

He didn’t know how it was that mere hours had gone since their first real kiss, only minutes where there should have been a lifetime to alter their course in time.

As Phryne’s fingers tightened around his cock, Jack shuddered helplessly in her arms, and his bucking into the hot wrap of her hand only urged her to move faster, harder. He felt her eyes on his face as his own fluttered closed, a sudden heat finding all of his skin, a sheen of sweat collecting over him. Unable to think, the world had narrowed to nothing but her fingers, soft but solid, and the warmth of her body beyond; the love in her eyes, concrete as her touch because she thought he wasn’t looking. He knew she was curled on her side and watching him in tender fascination, once quietly mewling as he gripped her hip hard.

“Phryne-” Jack ground out, holding on, not yet gone enough to allow himself to feel. For every thought halted came a thousand more of her, his body in complete surrender. He had to seize her wrist to halt her, but jerked his hips nonetheless at the sight love made of her as he opened his eyes.

There was no space left between them, only the excruciating gentleness of her gaze, which scared him more than he wished to admit, knowing as it did that it would be his undoing. Her face cupped warmly in his hand, he felt Phryne’s lips move against his own as well as the pad of his thumb, heartbreaking in their softness.

“Fuck me, Jack – make love to me. We’ve got no time to waste.” The words were a balm to his straining heart until all he felt was his body’s crying out to be with her.

A small nod, surprisingly earnest, and she pulled down his trousers and smalls so his cock made a heavy weight on her still slick thigh. 

Jack was granted a moment to look at her before he discarded the offensive clothing and returned so she could kiss him, but as it was she was sculpted into every corner of his mind. The moon on her curves and in her hair and eyes, little slivers so brilliant against this dark, exquisite night. The beams rippled under his hand, his knuckles skimming the edges of her body.

Now, he kissed the last of her lipstick from her lips and the whiskey from her tongue, mixing with both her own unique flavor. Melted together from head to hips, Phryne arched to press her nipples on his chest and, one leg flung around Jack’s hips to render him motionless, her dripping folds along his erection. He pushed forward to meet her tilting hips, loving the feel of being coated in her, the velvet between her legs – and the slide of her skin all around him, amplified by the hand speaking plainly of possession on his back, the fingers slightly crooked so the nails impressed his skin. Lying as they were on their sides, they tried to savor each thrust like a wave of thunder claiming them from head to toe. 

Jack felt her throbbing with desire, conjured up the fit of himself between her thighs – still only a vision yet on the verge of coming true. He caressed her leg, pried it gently from around his waist; fought the urge to put it back upon feeling so harshly the loss of her. But he propped her leg up, asking her approval with a tentative glance and finding that lust-blurred adoration that was so marvelous on Phryne as she scanned his face. 

“Protection?” Jack managed to ask and she nodded breathlessly; his own heart assumed her pulse as he settled against her, seeing himself, slick with her, moving ever closer between her open legs. Phryne’s hand was on his backside, pulling him in, crushing him – and as he embedded himself in her, the entire world held its breath. 

Caught in shudders, Jack pressed his forehead against Phryne’s. She squeezed him tightly, at first using her hand on the small of his back. He was shocked to feel so vividly her breasts against his own chest, the coarse thatch of hair between her thighs; and the tightness as she closed her legs and pulled him deeper, and indulged him in their perfect fit.

As he filled her, sank completely into the heat of her, Jack thought it was this moment he’d been waiting for all his life. Her entire body received him, and he was glad to accept her embrace, didn’t know how he’d go on now for knowing it. It was a dream so terrifying he wished he’d never wake, both to be with and without her and the safety he felt, nestled there in the drape of Phryne’s legs.

“Jack,” she cried softly, crushing forward against his pelvis when he hadn’t yet moved. Their position didn’t allow for focused thrusts, nor could they move particularly far, but all was worth the sensation of being so deeply joined in body and soul. If he rolled his hips and pushed against her, and Phryne made circular motions, she could grind her clit on his body and squeeze to massage his cock.

What he hadn’t thought possible proved true with every thrust, a connection so pure he felt her pleasure as his own, her life in his own body. Phryne’s eyes were a sheen of glass, her fingers loosely stroking his face; it was his arm around her that bore the nearness to see this through for the both of them. Jack drowned in the sweet burn of whiskey on the edge of her tongue as he gasped against her mouth more than he kissed her, cherishing her little cries as she pushed more solidly against him, digging into his muscles to brace herself.

Every thrust drawing him deeper, he could tell from the flutter of Phryne’s cunt that she was falling into release. She broke the kiss, threw her head against invisible restraints, letting her breathing tighten and surrendering completely to the pleasure he was gifting her, an offering greater than anything he could have thought to want. He couldn’t believe the trust she displayed in squeezing shut her eyes, brows furrowed in concentration, and pushed shamelessly against him in rapid thrusts.

Her impossible heat was driving him senseless, but Jack tried desperately to hold on, allowing the sting of her hard grip to ground him, so keen was she to chase her pleasure; he hoped distantly that she’d leave him bruised. Her muscles pulled at him with every thrust now, rippling as she neared release, wringing him, pounding around him.

Just as he thought he could go no deeper, Phryne came on a forceful wail. Latching her body to his by the way her walls clamped down hard, Jack was the rope that kept her from falling. He felt her body be seized by tightness, and with it the vibrations of her scream and her clenching fingers. And he watched her, for as long as he could, committing to memory every shock as her orgasm tortured her.

She held him weakly while she came down, and Jack finally allowed desire to engulf him as he moved within her once more, pressing his lips to her shoulder to keep in his scream. As he swayed on the current of her hips, Phryne pulled in a breath when Jack’s body drew taut and his release flooded hotly through her, and he collapsed again beside her in a panting heap.

***

In the aftermath, pools of sweat still cooling, washing away the unseen traces of touch on their skin, Jack found himself again between Phryne’s legs. Only this time she reclined against the headboard with himself before her and his head pillowed comfortably on the curve of her breast. While it was no less delightful than making love to her had been, this simple intimacy carried none of their methodical ease.

Smooth thighs had spread greedily around him; her hands were a tender current in his hair, but his sighs and easy breathing told of deceit. Jack watched himself palming her opposite breast, wondering how it was that the sight procured him only grief. He wondered if that same grimness weighed on her heart – some part of him hoping, selfishly, that it did, while logic let him know that she wouldn’t permit it – along with the taunting question which kiss would be their last.

Whether she intended to stay a little longer was what he really asked.

“I shouldn’t,” Phryne said; silence followed as she continued to flex her fingers in his hair, creating peace in the lie of their safety. Then: “But...a few more minutes perhaps?”

“As long as you want, Phryne.” His own voice sounded choked and shaky, making her cling to him just a fraction too tight. Her stillness was a blessing as emotion blurred his vision; he felt nothing, let fierce denial give way to defeat, and burrowed deeper against her warm, soothing skin.

And was it a tear that he felt hitting his hair, when she thought him fast asleep between her arms?

***

He didn’t wake again till morning; then, of course, found her gone. The house was empty, he could tell, but traces of her lined every shadowed corner like the echo of them did the air. She was everywhere, in the carved-out gaps where her clothes had piled, the lipstick on an empty glass where the one beside it was unmarked. In the doorway, leaving. Even the bathroom as he went there, unsure what he hoped to find.

The small room lay in darkness, the door the slightest bit ajar; even there her presence felt strong. Jack pushed inside, feeling disoriented, watching the light catch in the mirror at his front. And there, in a red-black vividness contrasting with the washed-out hues of early morning, he read with his heartbeat in his ears the loopy scrawl in scarlet lipstick atop the spotless surface, infuriating letters spanning the mirror’s entire height.

_ I love you _

_ -P _

Never had he pictured her sharply as now, almost through the door when she turned back, one last means to torment him making cheerful her step. His own growing smile he saw framed in the unruly red swirls on the surface of the mirror, which were brilliant and teasing as the woman herself, as Jack freshened up and donned his suit. And rushing as he did it, everything felt just a little lighter.

Not a glance spared for his empty quarters, he followed the trail she’d made out the door, was accompanied even there by the last of her warmth, her scent; Jack felt at his back her challenging grin as he pressed the handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize the button placement on Phryne's dress was wrong until I rewatched the episode a whole month after writing this, so now we'll have to accept it the way it is 😂 Also, wow, this is seriously smutty. A lot more so than I remembered. Ooops? I guess this is why you shouldn't make sex scenes six thousand words long.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'm not sure anyone knows the song I said this was inspired by, but sorry for sort of spoiling the ending if you do 😂 "And you wrote I love you in lipstick on the mirror" seemed so Phryne to me when I first came across the song, and that's where the entire plan for this came from. So thank you for reading and for sticking with me through such a weird idea ;) <3


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